


You've Always Hated Love

by writeyourheart



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MAJOR LOS SPOILERS!, also angsty KitxTy is always a fun thing to write, give them a break, i hope i finish this, i'm STILL not over livvy blackthorn like yikes fam damn, the blackthorns are so angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourheart/pseuds/writeyourheart
Summary: " You never understood love; the name for when your heart swelled, or when you felt happy or light headed. Love made you feel vulnerable, like a child, and somehow the thought of that made it so unappealing to you.And now, you hated love even more than you ever had.Not because you couldn’t understand it, or not because you hated the child-like exposure of it. You hated it for what it had done to you. You hated life for giving you something you had never proved worthy of deserving, something you had never asked for, and taking it away from you nonetheless. "Following Livvy's death, the Blackthorns are left with wounded hearts and open wounds.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so it's almost been a month since I've read Lord Of Shadows, and yet I'm still not over it in the slightest. I've also been facing writer's block, and so this is the perfect opportunity. After reading Lord of Shadows, I managed to remember how much I love the Blackthorns, and how well Ty and Kit complement one another. Ty, Livvy and Kit were by far my favourite characters in the novel, and the bond Ty and Livvy shared always warmed my heart, ever since City of Heavenly Fire. The ending of the book really fucked me up. 
> 
> With that being said, I hope to update this often considering my exams are over and I can finally get back into writing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the small prologue, I usually write way longer chapters, but prologues tend to be smaller and have far less conversation. 
> 
> Enjoy!

** You’ve Always Hated Love **

****

**The Prologue**

* * *

 

_When Your Soul Died_

 

 

* * *

 

            You felt nothing at first. No pain, no ache, no fear nor dullness. Somehow, your mind and senses had disappeared, your body becoming a void of piercing darkness, your heart not beating, your veins drained of their blood.

            You stilled, watching as the body that belonged to your second soul crumble weakly to her knees in a subtle fashion, a simple one. She was quiet as she came down, her legs only making a soft noise when colliding with the floor before falling into your older brother’s arms like the fallen leaf of a tree in Autumn.

            The broken steel sword in her chest shone from the sunlight that so wonderfully crept in from the large windows, watching the scene with burning brightness.

            Her hair was spread out like a pillow for her to peacefully lay on, but her head hung with dead weight when Julian took her into his arms, the hair on her head flailing downwards, the cascading chocolate brown waves now tinted with thick red blood seeming like a beautiful waterfall.

            It was only when your brother spoke that you awoke. Like a switch, the sound of her name suddenly reincarnated you, allowing your mind to illuminate; alive and throbbing with a sharp pain that felt so unfamiliar to your body and your soul.

            You felt your heart shatter only when her name was spoken from your brother’s lips the second time. And by the third time, you felt the shards of your broken heart cut through your system. You felt your veins and your arteries and all of your insides being poked by the sharp falling pieces of the heart you never managed to understand, not once in your fifteen years of live.

           You never understood love; the name for when your heart swelled, or when you felt happy or light headed. Love made you feel vulnerable, like a child, and somehow the thought of that made it so unappealing to you.

           And now, you hated love even more than you ever had. Not because you couldn’t understand it, or not because you hated the child-like exposure of it. You hated it for what it had done to you. You hated life for giving you something you had never proved worthy of deserving, something you had never asked for, and taking it away from you nonetheless.

           This pain hurt more than the sound of an overwhelming crowd, or the feeling of unfamiliar arms around your body. It was a pain that felt more chaotic than anything you had ever known.

          And at the sight of her dead, gone, heavy and yet still so light, you knew there was nothing in the world that could lessen your pain. Nothing in this world that could drown away the thought of her, of her body that was once so alive, so vibrant, now empty.

 _Livvy, Livvy, Livvy, Livia._ You chanted her name in your lucid mind, trying so desperately to find some comfort in the five-letter word that had always managed to calm you; the name that steadied your jumbled thoughts and your overly chaotic mind. Instead, each time you retold it to yourself you felt your already shattered heart shatter into more impossibly tiny pieces.

            As you clutched your chest, your body crumpling to the ground as soundlessly as your sister had, you could swear you saw it.

            It was impossible, you knew it better than anyone else. And yet still, you swear you saw the gleaming bright silhouette of a soul rise above her body, flying its way through the window and into the ocean coloured sky.

            And suddenly as you lay down, the overwhelming pain taking absolute control of your being, you knew you felt your soul escape your body like a rock falling from your hand. The rock was never really heavy, and yet still the feel of it dropping it from your grasp sent a sudden shock to you, as though an unexpected, unidentified hollowness began to haunt where the rock had once been.

            And just before you allow your eyelids to close, allowing the beautiful oblivion and darkness of sleep, you swear you see the silhouette of your own soul following hers, right through the open window, and away from the heart aching world life had so unfairly thrown you into.

            You, even now, do not understand life or love, and yet still, you manage to hate them both so much.  

 


	2. When You Woke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Both dreams and nightmares were rooted from the same strength, the same determination and stubbornness, but both grew in different directions, both gave different feelings, yet we felt one just as passionately as we felt the other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally updated! Short chapter, and I don't really know how to feel about it, but hopefully you all enjoy!

**When You Woke**

 

Oblivion was a dangerous thing. The beautiful heaviness of existing without knowing, without understanding what could potentially destroy your soul or crush your heart.

            Perhaps that was what made sleep so necessary, so inevitable. Sleep was not only to reenergize your body, your mind, your being. Sleep was to so gratefully offer you oblivion, to allow you to escape the chaos of the world that was so often too difficult to handle.

            Sleep offered a break, a pause, and without it, life would be unendurable; impossible.

            But at times life was rather beautiful, kind, giving, and stronger than unconsciousness. The things we loved and ached for most tended to find us once more, they taunted our minds, dancing and existing vibrantly in our dreams. They bloomed in our heads, too strong to be drowned by even oblivion itself. 

            And though dreams were beautiful enough to find us in our unconscious moments, nightmares were just as strong.

            Both dreams and nightmares were rooted from the same strength, the same determination and stubbornness, but both grew in different directions, both gave different feelings, yet we felt one just as passionately as we felt the other.

            And tonight, Ty was not given the lingering beauty of a dream, but the rashness of a haunting nightmare.

            All his memories seeming to have disappeared, all gone, not reachable, as if he had not existed at all before the day in Council Hall. The memory replayed in his mind like a broken record, over and over he saw Livvy’s sweater bloom heavily with blood, the colour of it growing darker, the material becoming thicker. The sword buried within her, like it had grown out of her, as though it had become an extra limb. And her strong yet fragile frame falling to her knees effortlessly.

            _“Ty, Ty I-”_

            The words blasted through his mind, the scene playing itself again and again and again and again with those dreadful words becoming its soundtrack.

_“Ty, Ty I-”_

He felt his mind begin to hurt, it was a throbbing, unfamiliar pain that Ty would never become accustomed to. His brain was aching, moving, buzzing, and his insides felt twisted, out of place, unfamiliar.

His body was no longer his own, his thoughts did not belong to him. They belonged to a boy he didn’t know, to a boy who must have been stronger than him, a boy who could endure these impossible hurts he so desperately wished would disappear.

These memories could not belong to him, for if they did, he’d rather be dead.

His eyes shot open, and his body bolted upright, sweaty and wet. His hair was plastered to his face as though they were sewed together, his breath was ragged and heavy like he had gone for a run that was too long, too fast.

“ _Livvy.”_ He had wondered who said it. The voice was harsh, and rough, and unfamiliar. But as soon as he heard it, his throat ached and felt clogged. With the realization that it was he who spoke her name from a voice he did not recognize, he stumbled out of the bed.

His mind was racing, alive and heavy within his head. He felt as though he was going to burst, as if his body was going to explode into millions of pieces across the bedroom floor.

From his dry lips, a strangling, depressed, moan escaped. His hands ran though his damp hair, wet from the sweat caused by the intensity of his nightmare.

 _Nightmare._ It had to be. He had just had a nightmare, a bad dream. His mind had finally found what would destroy him and constructed it in a sick, aching nightmare.

He drunkenly walked out of the room, stumbling on himself, desperate to find her. She had to be alive, she was just asleep. He had to see her. He needed to feel her, to touch her cheeks and run his fingers through the softness of the hair he so desperately wished he could share with her and the rest of his siblings. He needed to hold her, to hear her voice, to see the ocean coloured eyes that always kept him going, luminous and vibrant.

He staggered through the halls of the London Institute, the air was cool and thin, he felt goosebumps slide up his arms menacingly. His hands rubbed over them, covering himself. He opened the door next to his, finding it empty.

It was fine, she was in another room. She was in another room, and this was just a nightmare, and he would hear her voice again. He had to.

As he opened another door to find an empty bed, the pit in his stomach grew wider and hollow. He swallowed harshly, and allowed his feet to keep dragging him through the halls.

He opened the doors with anger now, his breath heavier each time he found the room behind it empty. The noise of the doors hitting the walls as they opened drove him mad, the feeling left in his broken heart leaving him with a throbbing pain.

He opened the next door, and he once more found nothing but an empty, neatly made bed. An impersonal room that could never belong to Livvy.

He dropped to his knees with what was left of his heart, his hands knotting in his hair, his mind chaotic as it played the memory again. The broken sword wedged in her chest so naturally it drew an agonizing sob from Ty’s bloody lips.

Footsteps met his ears, and the sound bothered him, blending it with the frenzy scene that haunted Ty’s mind. He curled into himself and covered his ears with his slim hands, begging for the pain to go away, for Livvy to be the one to appear.

But it wasn’t Livia. It was Drusilla.

She looked down at him, crouched against the wall by the door he had just thrashed open, curled into himself, his body shaking with such violence she opened her eyes wide; afraid.

“Oh, Ty,” she whispered slowly, her own voice shaky, tears escaping her ocean coloured eyes. She crouched too, yet kept her distance. His eyelids were tightly closed, hiding the glossy steel behind them. His ears were still covered by his hands, his hair messy and his skin pale.

He heard her as if she were miles away, her voice clouded and almost unintelligible. But, even beyond the chaos, he heard her say his name with a sadness that would seem to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Ty, it’s alright,” she said it so sweetly, even through his muffled hearing he could sense the softness in her voice. But she was lying, because it was not alright. Livvy was gone, dead, untouchable, and so nothing could be alright. “Ty, please, open your eyes.”

He shook his head hectically, but the memory played again, and he felt every bit of him break. Every inch of him was on fire, burning and alive.

He had always felt the world more than others could, more intensely, more passionately perhaps. It had always set him aside, differentiated him from the others. The way he heard the crashing foam of the waves, or the sudden loud claps of thunder, or the chaotic noise of a busy city. They brought him distress, but his headphones could drown the noise away, allow him to calm down, bring him the closest thing to serenity he could in the noisy moments the world brought to him.

But nothing could drown this feeling. No music could drown this pain, no person could take it away except for Livvy herself.

“Dru, go to bed.” It was Julian. He was so blinded by the impossible pain his body was enduring that he seemed be immune to everything but Livvy’s voice. “ _Ty, Ty I-”_

“But Jules, Ty’s just sitting here,” Dru said gently with a heavy hesitation he caught onto. Ty’s eyes remained shut.

“I know, baby, I know, but I’m here now, go back to sleep.” Julian whispered to Dru, and he still heard him. Ty’s eyes still did not flicker even once.

“I…” Dru hesitated. Ty knew she was staring at him, even through closed eyes he could feel her gaze lingering on his shaky, crumpled form. Finally, she spoke, her voice set and strong. “I can’t.”

For a while, Ty heard nothing, no voices, no whispers. And somehow, that allowed Livvy’s voice to grow louder in his mind, the sight more apparent, more visual, more graphic. He saw the red blood drench her Shadowhunter clothing. Everything began to hurt more, his mind doing the inevitable thing that made him different, his feelings piercing and unbearable.

He groaned loudly, another sob fell from his lips. He curled into himself tighter, trying so desperately to push away the sight of Livvy’s dead body from his frightening memories.

“Oh, my poor Ty,” Julian said with an aching gentleness, falling to his knees next to Ty. Ty’s eyelids finally opened, allowing steel, bloodshot eyes to find blue-green ones that held unshed tears and obvious pain.

“ _Ty, Ty I-”_ He heard it again, and without a second thought, he threw himself into Julian’s chest, Ty’s arms tangling around his older brother’s neck, his head buried within his shoulder. Shakily, he sobbed, and Julian entwined his arms around Ty, hushing him and whispering meaningless words of comfort.

Dru stood behind them, watching as silent tears fell down her pink cheeks. Mark appeared behind her, his hands light on her shoulders.

“What happened?” Mark whispered to her, and Ty could hear his unsteadiness.

“He woke up,” Dru replied simply, as if this were the only possible answer, the only accurate reaction for Ty to have when he woke to find himself in a world without half of his heart. And she was right.  

Ty didn’t need them to be watching, to be standing over as he was being held in Julian’s own shaky arms, but he didn’t have the energy to yell at them to leave. He was too busy sobbing, his mind in hysterics, his body still processing what type of life he had woken up to be a part of.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Julian whispered to him, his deep voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Ty didn’t understand why Julian was apologizing, Julian didn’t kill Livvy. But he didn’t bother trying to mention it, assuming this was one of the things about people he couldn’t simply grasp onto. Livvy could have explained it to him if she were here. But if she were here, he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.

“Ugh,” Dru muttered depressively behind them, turning to Mark with quivering lips. “This isn’t fair. Haven’t we lost enough?”

Ty felt Julian stiffen, his hands still where he had been stroking Ty’s hair. And Ty felt himself stiffen up, too. Dru was right. This was not fair.

“Nothing is fair, Dru,” Mark said genuinely, but with the right amount of smoothness to make it sound comforting.  “Nothing.”

As Dru fell into Mark’s open arms, Ty clutched Julian tighter, and Julian clutched back.

In the dark Institute hallway, lit by a simple witchlight, together, they sobbed.

From not too far away, Kit observed the four Blackthorn siblings, all of them disoriented and heart broken. Suddenly, as if he had been struck by the same sword Livvy had, his soul shattered into what felt like thick shards of glass.

 

*****

 

 

Kit sat by Ty’s bed with an empty feeling in his stomach and a dreadful urge that emerged from the depths of his mind. Curiosity flooded through him, wondering what the boy was dreaming of. He hoped he was dreaming of pretty things; of quiet places that warmed his heart and would soothe his soul.

But Kit knew better.

His own nightmares were strong, vivid and painful enough to haunt him even through the daytime. His dreams laced with the face of a vibrant girl who he once knew well; funny and lively, beautiful and determined. The face of his friend, bloody and lifeless, would so easily find him as he slept, as if mocking him, making a fool of his sanity.

            He hated the world for it. He hated the world for _finally_ allowing him to adjust into the life he never thought he could settle in, and pulling the rug from under him as soon as he had.

He hated the world for taking Livvy away from Helen and Mark and Julian and Dru and Tavvy. And Ty. _His_ Ty.

If the world were a being, a person, an object, Kit was without a doubt sure he would have destroyed it the second he saw Ty crumple to the Institute floor, the second he watched Ty’s broken-hearted figure shake with frightening violence.

How he hated the world for taking away a beautiful, innocent girl. But, oh, how he hated the world for taking her from _Ty_.

“Kit,” a steady voice spoke. Kit turned his head to the doorway, where Emma stood. Her hair was messily tied in a ponytail, strands fell to her angled face, her gaze laying on Ty’s sleeping form. In the chocolate brown of her eyes, Kit noticed how distraught she was.

She stared at Ty, lingering, her eyes burning with love and compassion, her lips tightly pressed in a line, her body stiff and squeezed, as though she were forcing herself together so she wouldn’t physically crumble into bits.

“Yeah?” He answered her quietly, his blue eyes resting on her. “What’s up?”

“Do you want me to look over him?” She asked calmly, her lips parting only to speak before they fell back together in that familiarly compressed line. “You’ve been here for a few hours. You should go eat, or sleep, or, I don’t know, do something else.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kit promised. He wasn’t lying. He felt guilty leaving Ty alone, and though it was odd to admit, even sleeping, Ty’s presence handed him calmness and reassurance. “I don’t mind it.”

Emma’s gaze broke from Ty, and only now, as she stared at him questioningly, Kit saw the unshed tears that rested, threatening to spill.

She stared at Kit almost menacingly, as if her eyes themselves could move him from the chair he sat on by Ty’s bed. Her eyes were determined and hard, the eyes of a girl who lost too much, and who would do anything and everything if it meant never losing anything else.

“You care about Ty a lot, don’t you?” The question was sudden, and sounded odd to hear spoken aloud. But, nonetheless, Kit undoubtingly knew the answer. 

“Yes,” Kit said honestly. Emma cocked her head to the side, as if observing him, scanning him for information like she was some sort of robotic machine. They stayed like this for minutes, Kit lazily pressed against the chair by Ty’s bed, Emma staring at him as though she were swallowing all of his details.

Finally, Emma spoke. “I can bring you something to eat.” Kit nodded. He didn’t want to leave Ty, but he hadn’t moved from the chair in hours, and he was desperate for some food.

Emma smiled at him, leaning crookedly on the door frame, still half observing him. The unshed tears still rested in her eyes. “You’re a good boy, Kit.”

*****

 

            Ty’s head was throbbing, aching as though he had repeatedly banged it on concrete. Instinctively, his fingers gently pressed to his head, through the familiar softness of his hair.

            A groan escaped his mouth before he could stop it; guttural and agonizing to the ears. Ty’s hands moved to press over his ears, though the noise had already been made, and it couldn’t ever manage to be unheard. 

            “Ty,” a softer voice uttered. His hands suddenly dropped like dead weight from his ears and to the warm sides of the bed. He looked to his side, his vision slightly blurry and his world spinning dizzily. But he recognized the blonde head, and the soft features his memory tended to know very well. The clarity of Kit’s blue eyes seemed to make the world slow down, back to a normal pace.

            “Hello,” Ty managed, though it sounded harsh and ragged. Kit smiled somberly, and at first, Ty didn’t know why.

            _“Ty, Ty I-”_

            His heart sank, shattering all over again. The world became dizzy once more, everything became too intense; the empty ache in his chest, the pounding in his head, the memory of his sister dead in Julian’s trembling arms.

            His breathing grew heavier, and thick. His chest raised up and down in a shaky manner. Another noise escaped his lips, though this was not a moan, but rather an excruciating sob.

            He felt the bed shift suddenly, and two hands hesitated by his arms. The blue in Kit’s eyes flooded with worry. They were so bright, so piercing, and Ty couldn’t help but wonder if Kit could see right through him, as if he were translucent. As if the aching thoughts and memories in his mind were physically visible to him, as if Kit could watch him like a movie, or read him like a book, or view his mind like one could view a picture.

            Kit’s long hands were only millimetres away from Ty’s arms, and he could still feel the warmth that radiated from his body, sending tingles up his arms, goosebumps appearing at the speed of light.

            “Can I…?” Kit mumbled quickly, his words fast yet steady. “Do you need me to-”

            Ty’s arms tangled around Kit’s neck before the other boy could speak another word, his head laying heavily against his shoulder, fingers only inches away from the smoothness of his hair. Ty felt his body soften the second Kit’s arms rested around his back, his thumb roughly drawing subtle, illegible shapes on his back.

            Ty allowed himself to follow the movement of Kit’s thumb as it swirled around his back. Up and down, back and forth, side to side, from pattern to pattern. The simple motion soothed him, allowing his tears to fall gently rather than hurriedly and hectically, his eyes drooping as he felt himself melt within Kit’s touch.

            His mind followed the pattern of Kit’s fingers on his back, subtly and slowly dying down the crowded, chaotic memory of Livvy, the pain stayed, but the distraction was like an injection; it numbed the hurt.

            They stayed this way for minutes that felt like hours, Ty’s mind now naturally following the repetitive sway of Kit’s fingers that drew lazily on his spine, the thin material of his black shirt being the only thing that prevented a frenzy of tingles to find Ty.

            It was like the time on the roof, when the thought of anything happening to Livvy was so overwhelming, so intolerable it would break him, tear his insides apart, shatter his heart and disfigure his being. He’d be nothing. An empty shell, a body without a soul.

            But now Livvy was really gone, and somehow, it was not necessarily as he imagined. The pain was overwhelming, and intolerable. His heart had shattered, and his mind and memories could not be drowned. But, he was not an empty shell, for his soul was there. It was existing within him. Though, it was not thriving. It was aching, burning, constantly an inferno within his chest, his arms, his legs, his head. It was unendurable, yet it was so tempting, it called for him, screeching his name until he gave in to the pain, until he watched the memory of Livvy being stabbed repetitively, constantly, over and over again.

 His soul had not left. His soul had shifted, it had turned against him, it had become his sworn enemy. And the thought of not having a soul seemed far better, far easier. He’d rather feel nothing at all than the antagonizing sensation his soul forced him to endure.

Ty squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to exist in the moment, to focus on the softness of Kit’s fingers that danced on his back, to the slight tickle he felt when Kit’s head would tilt slightly, allowing the curled ends of his golden hair to meet his neck.

He suddenly realized the dry feeling on his cheeks, the noticeable lack of tears. He didn’t know when he had stopped crying, but he didn’t seem to care. His fingers moved from Kit’s neck to find his back, his own fingers drawing unintelligible patterns on Kit’s back. The feeling of his hands against the cotton fabric of Kit’s grey shirt was nice, and almost luring. His fingers dipped into the curve of Kit’s spine, moving back and forth, in a gentle and calm manner.

“I’m so sorry, Ty,” Kit whispered, his lips almost touching his ear, his warm breath sending shivers down his spine, his head almost tilting back at the comforting feeling. A new type of unrecognizable urge had overcome his sense for only seconds before retreating back to their weary ways, a feeling that made him feel alive, a burn that lightened him rather than drowned him, a tingle that made him almost want more.

“Why is everyone apologizing?” Ty asked, thinking back to what Julian had told him as they rocked on the Institute floor. “You didn’t kill her.”

“I know,” Kit assured, detaching himself from Ty slightly to face him. Ty felt a sudden drop in his stomach at the abrupt loss of contact. “That’s just what people say I guess. I’m not sorry because I killed Livvy, I’m sorry because....” He trailed off, his eyes falling to the mattress. Ty looked at him now, no longer worried of the eye contact considering Kit’s eyes were the ones that gazed elsewhere. His hair was a mess, his eyelashes long and only shades darker than the hair on his head. They looked like the subtle wings of a faery; magic-like and enchanting.

“Because what?” Ty whispered, his voice rearranging itself, no longer guttural and unfamiliar.

“I’m sorry because she was taken from you,” Kit said, a slight reluctance in his voice. “From all of you.”

Ty stared at him questioningly, his grey eyes the colour of a steel sword, the clarity of its iron reflection. Ty stared at Kit, the boy’s own eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. His heart altered more, as if it were even possible, at the sight of him like this.

But, similar to a strike of lightening, or the sudden jolting sound of a clap of thunder, a memory struck him. The sight of Kit’s hands steady around Livvy’s waist as they shared what seemed to be a passionate kiss on the beach.

He let out a ragged breath, and Kit’s eyes widened. Kit was into Livvy, he had feelings for her. It must be hard on him, too. Perhaps not nearly as much as Ty, but the thought of losing someone you loved romantically was one Ty was a stranger to. Though, at the memory of his father, ghosting around the institute somberly after his mother’s death, it clearly was not any easier.

And, nonetheless, Ty felt another pain in his chest, one resembling jealousy. But he didn’t let himself understand why, his words pushing away his thoughts and feelings as they left his lips. “Well then I’m sorry too.”

Kit looked at him, and Ty’s eyes rested on the flopping curl that stuck out unevenly on his forehead. He saw the sad smile that fell upon Kit’s face though, one that even his brain could analyze as bleak. Kit’s hands moved from his back to Ty’s neck, and Ty felt the unrecognizable urge meet him once more.

“Kit!” The familiar voice of Cristina met both their ears, the shock of it causing Ty to cringe within Kit’s grasp. “Come and eat something!”

“Don’t leave.” The words fell from Ty’s mouth before he registered what he had said. His lips allowing words to escape before his brain could notify them, as they so often did. Ty felt sudden blush rise to his cheeks as Kit’s depressed smile grew into one with more kindness and gentleness.

His thumb began drawing shapes again, on his neck this time. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The pain was not gone. But the numbness overpowered.

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading, and more to come soon! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and I hope to update more soon for those who did! :)


End file.
